


Lessons in friendship 2 - Touches

by TheGracefulBlueCat



Series: Lessons in Friendship [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Irene Adler - Freeform, Irene drugging Sherlock, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Experiments on John, Sherlock's thoughts, Touch-issues, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-20 13:41:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2430887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGracefulBlueCat/pseuds/TheGracefulBlueCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After 'A Scandal in Belgravia'.<br/>Sherlock trying to get used to be touched.<br/>NO slash! Just Sherlock trying to deal with something he doesn't like or understand.<br/>No First Person POV but almost entirely form Sherlock's side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Realisation

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimer: Sherlock, John and all other mentioned characters belong to BBC and the guys who invented them. I just borrowed them for fun. I wrote this for my personal delight and improving my english, no copyright infringement intended. No money changed hands and no profit is being made. 
> 
> Many thanks to my betareader Graveofthefireflies!  
> Would love to hear what you think.  
> I have no medical knowledge and do not know if i followed the right procedures!

 

 

A few days after meeting Moriarty at the pool and having first tried to speak to John about his PTSD Sherlock was still in _observing-John-mode_.

He watched John closer than usual, but either John didn't care, or he didn't notice, or he was too busy with dealing with the events that had proceeded the first meeting with his new archenemy.… Yes, nones of those in normal people's real life… That had been proven wrong, definitely… or, no, not really. It says _normal_ , no normal here…

Well, John was jumpier than usual and sometimes seemed absent minded but that was about it. Sherlock took some time to think about what normal people did in their daily routine when there were people around.

While they were in a taxi riding back to 221b after they had been in the Buckingham palace (which had amused him more than he had ever thought possible… and the factor that John had laughed with him and obviously not only understood his jokes but even liked them was… delighting?) - whatever it was, it felt like friendship to him.

Whenever he watched people he'd identify as friends there was one more thing he had never considered - they touched each other, quite often, and it seemed to go unnoticed or was normal. Touching didn't feel normal to him, it was not something that the majority of his family did regularly anyway. Though he knew that there was a study that says children need to be touched to grow up normally. Deprivation could damage them.

He hated to be touched. He didn't like how facts about others invaded his personal space, just because he looked, but being touched gave away even more about them, more than their looks and their expressions, and their smells, their voices and their posture. All of those he had to endure because he couldn't walk around with closed eyes, clamp on his nose and earplugs in his ears all his life. But sometimes (and espacially as a kid) he felt like a voyeur. It wasn't their fault and it wasn't his, but he didn't like it when their facts invaded his private space even more than they already did.

When somebody managed to touch him when he wasn't fast enough to avoid it it bombarded him with much more information that he wanted and induce an unpleasant feeling of uneasiness that sometimes was akin to slight panic.

When he grew up he learned to endure it when it happened, but it was always enduring, not even neutral with most parts of his family. Of course he knew lots of people considered being touched to be comforting and liked it - as long as the touch was intended to be comforting by the giving side. He wondered if he could ever get to the point were he wouldn't have to endure it.

He himself touched people only when really necessary - and liked to keep his gloves on for that or even put them on when he had to shake somebody's hand. On the day John had come to the the flat for the first time, Sherlock had worn his leather gloves when they shook hands, it was the first time they touched.

He felt his privacy invaded by handshakes, and it was also a perfect way to transmit germs. Skin to skin contact made his nerves tingle in a nasty stinging need to get away. The gloves were the easiest way to prevent it. He liked to wear them when he was with other people, though they sometimes looked funny at him for not pulling them off. They were his barrier, protection, people tended to try to shake his hands less often when he kept them on.

A few months ago he had seen how people reacted to him almost fleeing a room in the try to evade being touched. It made them think he was a freak even more than they already did. Now he wondered if there was a need to practice being touched and giving touches. Dulling via repetition might help… and maybe there was another positive effect. Maybe when he entrusted John with this vulnerability of his it was a sign of trust to the doctor.

 

As ususal John was chosen as the one to practice with. This time it was not only because John was available but also because he was the only person that Sherlockcould trust in that way.

Some weeks ago during the banker case something had happened that he registered only afterwards. He had shoved John's jacket up his shoulders again when John was not getting he needed to leave again immediately and was slipping out of it.

John had been slightly irritated about the interference, maybe that was _not good_?

Where there social boundaries about physically preventing someone to undress by touching the clothes? Was it not decent? Well, he had not really touched John, he had touched the clothes and pulled them up his shoulders again.

The thing itself had made him wonder in hindsight. He had in fact touched John of his own free will, wanting to make him help him on the case was the goal and he had not even thought about it that he touched John. It was not an obstacle that moment. Why?

But there had been an other occasion. The first real relaxed touch, it was kind of important to sh and really mattered in hindsight, though it was a passive kind of touch, through clothes.

When they had performed their first chase, after the cabbie, they had been standing in the hallway, at the foot of the stairs, laughing, it was when Sherlock for the first time felt what he had only guessed before: John fit. He couldn't grab it in any other way, things just fit. They felt right, old, used to, like it should have been like this, like it had always been like this… familiar but all so new and interesting. It was an amazing sensation. Sherlock knew nothing about it than that it needed to be kept safe, though he kicked his own behind for thing about such stupid sentiment only seconds after the event.

The event itself was John leaning against the wall, them both making redicoulous jokes about invading Afghanistan and Sherlock felt the brush of John's elbow against his own. It was so subtle but so … _profound_.

He felt not uneasy… maybe that was the _most_ profound thing at all.

With anybody else before he had felt the need to move away when contact was established, even through fabrics, but this was relaxed, there was touch and it was just there. No urge to flee, no unsettling sensations, no nothing, the touch just existed and it was okay.

It felt strange… touch being neutral.

First Sherlock decided he needed more data, but then he found he needed to practise, he also decided not to explain what he was doing, he just did it, which caused several occasions where John rolled his eyes and was unnerved.

Sherlock feared it would compromise the authenticity of the results if John knew what he was doing and might react different than natural. Sherlock asked John to get his phone out of his jacket, while he was wearing it - no skin contact for the beginning.

John reacted slightly annoyed, though Sherlock didn't know why at first. Had he stepped over a boundary? When?

Could it be mistaken as a try to hit on him to ask him that?

But John didn't ask why and fetched the things, though his movements were kind of rough. Irritated, the detective had asked him to be more careful. The touch had made him tense up and there it was again… he endured it.

Sherlock was a lot more subtle after that.

Sometimes he asked him to hand over things and after some time John wasn't even annoyed any longer, or maybe even observing, trying to solve his own puzzle?

Occasionally Sherlock even tried to touch John directly, without any other intention than to explore what it felt like and how difficult it was for him.

 

 


	2. The Woman

 

 

Then they were involved in the case with _The Woman_.

It was a mess from the beginning, Sherlock seemed to make one odd decision after the next, he considered them odd himself afterwards, back then it seemed to be the logical choice, hindsight said something else.

First mistake was he had tried to make John hit him.

When John hadn't reacted the way he wanted he had hit him first, in order to get hit back. In retrospective he regretted it to have given John a negative association to his touch, he had just been too impatient and not thought about it.

He himself had blocked out the pain expecting it since he knew it was coming, though was quite surprised when John had taken him into a sleeper hold and told him 'don't do such things' in his own way. He had realized this had been a crappy idea and John would fear it could happen again. He could see it in his posture afterward that case for weeks, it had definitely done something not-good to John's trust.

Only half an hour later Sherlock had - for the first time in his life - felt comforted by a non-family member and as a grown-up, by exactly the same hands that had given him a small laceration on his cheek before.

Irene Adler had touched him, on his arm, he didn't like it.

"It was self-defence it advcance."

It was more than an ivasion of his privacy, he instinctively had the impulse to get out of her reach, while something in the back of his mind sceamed that she was trying to seduce him to get to the phone. But he had no time to do anything else when suddenly pain jerked through his other upper arm near the shoulder. He was an idiot, this was probably the oldest trick ever. Touch one shoulder and then do something with/over the other one.

At first he thought she had stabbed him, but it turned out she had instead injected him with something, with unnecessary force.

"What is that, what…?" He heard himself stammer.

The substance and her first totally unexpected slap on his face, which caught him entirely off guard, made his vision blurry. The sheer power of the blow made him stagger to his knees. Very clumsy already, not good.

"Give it to me, now. Give it … to me."

"No."

He managed to get up partially but… very fast acting stuff, nasty, what could it have been?… Doesn't really matter right now. Hold onto the phone was important.

"Give it to me."

He wasn't really listening, he needed to stay conscious and fight the drug... and keep the phone!

Why was John not present? He was on his hands now, trying to get up again.

"For goodness sake."

Moments later he was sitting on the ground, his mind reeling through ways of how to get her off him, but he felt dangerously like floating already. Dizzy.

"Drop it"

But she was ahead of him again. Something else than her hand hit him, it felt foreign and he was disoriented about the source for a moment, but he managed to held on to the designer-phone.

He realized she was the source of the sharp agony. She had hit him… with a _riding crop_!

Two more blows followed immediately and it caused him to loose balance, brought him to his knees unexpectedly fast.

The pain was dazzlingly strong, sharp and blinding.

He was absolutely stunned by it's intensity and lost control of his body.

As he fell to the floor he was only dimly aware of the impact with the hard wooden material.

The blazing agony made him grey out for a few seconds before his body's stress reaction kicked in and flooded him with humming adrenaline and his senses jumped into overdrive.

He sensed a slight… something in his mind, it started as a tingle, was he experiencing a hint of what might have been some panic?

Endorphins started to rush, in an orange wave… from his solar plexus in all directions, their pain-killing effects brought relief.

He lay there, stunned, watching her with the phone in one hand and the crop in the other. She teased him.

He expected another blow every moment. She was talking but he was not really able to understand her, the aftermath of the pain wiping his mind blank with stringily dark red and black cotton wool.

He remembered he needed to breathe, it was something one was supposed to do, wasn't he?

It was work, something felt like his chest had hardened and the need was more abstract than his mind was able to process. He was tempted to ignore the need.

He made a desperate try to roll onto his side to get up, but she blocked the movement with her leg.

This was disgusting. He felt weak and stranded.

The crop touched his face like an extension of her fingers. Teased him, humiliated him with the threat of another blow.

He tried to fight the drug while she had the end of the crop resting on his face and was talking.

Consciousness started to slipp for short moments and his limbs seemed to get number by the minute.

He was dimly aware of John coming in.

God, thank heaven, John was there and… What if she attacked him, too? The rising panic lessened partially when she moved away from them both.

John knelt down next to him and his fingers rested against his carotid artery to feel for his pulse.

His distorted face was close to his own and he felt a wave of relief wash over him. He struggled to breathe.

The doctor's touch was extraordinary... warm, welcomed, a delightful shade of light blue and most important… safe, it felt so safe an familiar.

Another surge of relieve and gratitude washed over him, for the kind and caring touch. Something so normal for a doctor to do felt so profound and huge. The sensation caused a flood of ivory bubbles to raise through his mind, they were soothing. John looked worried and was talking, but although he understood John wanted an answer to something he was beyond speech, barely able to move.

John's presence was good, he knew his friend wouldn't allow him to be harmed in this absolute disgusting and vulnerable state. Was that how it felt to be comforted… by touch… and also in general, when it _was_ working? He'd never thought he'd ever experience a touch that would fit that description.

The sharp contrast between the painful touches before and the soft good ones from John was stunning, alarming even. Following each other so fast emphasised the contrast. He had never expected it to be so intense.

Orange and cerulean, Irene and John.

John's face and his touch vanished.

Uneasy now. Not nice.

He distantly realised John was talking, standing between Irene and him, then he disappeared from his field of vision. Sherlock tried to gather all his strength and with hard work he managed to lift his torso, but fell back when the world started spinning. The contact with the floor was hard.

The last thing before he finally lost consciousness was the return of a warm hand, on his forehead now, then another one at his chest.

"Easy… don't try to get up..." John soothed and his touch accompanied him when everything slipped away.

 

He was trapped in a maze of sensations, until the crime scene materialised around him and with it Irene. God, he had hoped she had fled and would never come back again, but here they were, analysing the scene.

Or was he dreaming about her? He felt dizzy and disoriented, kind of high and … er, only half coherent and numb. Discussing the case with her… Where they in his mind palace? How had she gotten in? But they were outside. The mind palace had never had an outside area, it was just insides. But this was the crime scene, wasn't it? Had he put the crime scene into his mind palace?

A soft surface came up to meet him.

Then there were distant memories of being touched, but those were of the kind he wanted to evade. He tried… but he was to weak.

Her hands brought asensation a touch that was an odd mixture of agony and care, pain and softness. Partly they were probably even meant to be pleasure but for his senses they weren't. Though he realized he was not afraid of her, in fact he liked her mind, but being touched by her was wearisome. He tried to struggle out of her touch and…

 

…woke up disoriented in his own bed, the shadows of her touches still lingered. He tried to shake them off but before he knew what he was really doing he had yelled for John.

The doctor appeared immediately at the door… and Sherlock fell out of bed, first time for that… This level of non-coordiantion was disgusting, his body not following his commands. Dull transport.

John lifted him back to bed, when he fell again moments later.

Sherlock was busy with hating his vulnerability and that John saw him being this pathetic.

Shame.

Embarrassed, exposed…

He dimly realized John covered him with his sheet again, and then rested a soothing hand against his side for a moment. But now he felt damaged and weak, and this touch made him feel even more embarrassed, did John think he needed soothing? Pathetic! He did not want to be touched like this!

He slipped back into the old behaviour pattern, swamped, not able to honor his friend's care.

John asked Sherlock to call for him when he needed him, but his reply was grumpy and dismissing.

Exhaustion and frustration about the whole thing consumed his already half asleep mind… and he also hadn't brought back the phone… more shame… he had blown it.

The woman had escaped, with the phone, and he felt disgusted about himself for being an idiot.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


	3. More experiments

 

Another thing he observed about people touching was when they wanted to underline something, especially emotional utterances. He had never liked those, because words should be enough for every halfway decent person to get the message, at least this was what he thought until Christmas when he saw the hurt in Molly's eyes after he had deduced her… deduced her wrong and humiliated her by it. He was glad he had finally understood he did something wrong. John had told him to shut up twice before while he was deducing everyone in the room but he hadn't got it.

John had explained to him a lot later that they had been visited by people who liked them, by friends who wanted to spend the special evening with them, but he had blundered and offended every one of them according to John. Well, the only one _he_ realized he had not been kind to was Molly and although he tried to say sorry he felt that words weren't just enough at that moment, which was odd. That was when he made another peculiar decision, he later wasn't sure what had come over him. He decided to do an experiment with touch and use it to underline his statement.

He decently and carefull kissed her cheek. He could almost taste the shock in the room, first about his mean comments and now about that guesture. He wondered if he had totally gotten it wrong, then another unfelicitous thing added to the awkwardness of the situation. His phone moaned with the arrival of another text.

He escaped the mess of social interation with the little package Irene had left for him and retreated into his room.

 

Another occasion to experiment on that variatin of touch followed shortly after and this time it happened without planning it. Mrs Hudson had been assaulted by the American agent and he touched first her wrists (to inspect her injuries) and a short while later her jaw, he did it to soothe her, she was clearly upset and he knew she'd forgive him easily if he had done it in the wrong way. She was always very patient with him when it came to social interaction, misunderstanding him quite often, but not judging him at least, and sometimes chided him for his lack of social competence.

She didn't react more agitated or angry, so it must have been okay, but his concern right now was the agent, so he ignored the topic.

But some time later when John stated Mrs Hudson was in shock and that she needed to be safe or feel safe or wherever the difference was, he tried touching her again.

He was a bit used to touching her already, like for greeting or so. When she hugged him it was okay, it was neutral, too, had been for a long time. She was one of the few people who's touches he didn't evade and didn't try to get away from, though he usually did not initiate them.

But this time he did. John said she needed comfort and he pressed her shoulders to his side, it felt a bit unexperienced and clumsy but she seemed to feel comforted because she patted his hand and John grinned oddly about the guesture…. So that time touching for underlining the declaration of Mrs Hudson's importance to the security of Britain seemed to have been alright, not to awkward at least.

 


	4. Irene, again

 

 

Irene returned and with her, her irritating touches. Most of them weren't even physical, but Sherlock could sense them on himself or on his personal space nevertheless.

When she turned up sleeping in his bed it felt like she was invading his privacy. The way she touched his stuff was not how he like it, especially in that moment. She had no access privileges to his things, those were only granted to John…. and partially to Mrs Hudson. It felt like she touched him unasked again. At least she did not touch the violin.

After she took a shower she wore his blue dressing gown and by that moment he had at least a bit get used to her behaviour. It seemed to be a part of her game or strategy or whatever, though he had not the faintest idea why she might be doing it or what this was supposed to cause in average men.

He did not trust her and when John seemed irritated and behaved affronted or something he wondered if she was creating sexual tension in the room, must have been, he realized because John made a comment concerning baby names, once more he knew he was absolutely blind to the things she did. He dismissed it and then, a few moments later she kissed him on the cheek. He ignored it, another unrequested touch by her. Was it a part of her game or did she try to provoke a reaction? Must have been, he stared at her intensely after she informed him she would have him on the table, the comment seemed to make John uneasy… or maybe his confusion was… no, he had _no_ idea, her face showed nothing and he ignored that remark, too.

John left him with her without telling him, he felt slightly not good with that. She told him it was hours ago. He did not like it. What had she done while he was in his mind palace? Her being present was one more step into his comfort zone he did not like.

She came very close and rested her hand on his. At first he was uneasy with the touch but only a moment later an interesting idea for a new experiment popped up in his mind. Uh, a new chance to test something first handed. Though he was slightly smitten with her closeness and her smell he saw the opportunity and used it. He turned his hand under hers and held her wrist carefully. He imitated her movements, speaking slowly and coming closer, if she was doing it it was probably the right behaviour. His forefinger found her pulse point and counted. Then Mrs Hudson interrupted them and she retreated immediately.

The irony of the thing crossed his mind. Was she trying to seduce him? Was she aware he was not at all interested to be seduced? He knew the chemistry and he decided to collect data.

Some time later he learned that she had know about his disinterest in her in detail, it had been quite humiliating, no only to be told by his own brother that he had walked into her trap and then realised that her seduction had only been an distraction from the real thing she was doing and that it had worked as planned, because she found another weak spot.

Mycroft had pointed out his weaknesses and scolded him and she had humiliated him even more by suggesting that he had really believed she was interested in him.

But then everything fell into place and the complexity of it all was quite interesting.

He finally used the knowledge of how she had used her touch and mimicked her. Took her wrist, leaned very near to her ear, whispered into it. He told her about her body's reactions and revealed the truth that had just enfolded itself in his mind. The password was right and in the end they had the data.

Although he still found her very interesting and the complexity of her plans disturbingly beautiful, which made him go to rescue her from being executed some more time later.

But his frustration about being played somehow made a connection to being touched, he then evaded every touch for months after that. Not eager to explore the thing any more for a while. It was clearly a step back but he didn't care, it was too irritating to think about the topic for quite some time.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a native speaker, but I hope you are not offended by my typos and accasional grammar mistakes.  
> Please leave a comment to give me some feedback.


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